Leptos
by The Smashlee
Summary: With Uchiha Sasuke there was no such thing as in-betweens and near enoughs, there were only black and white extremes. NaruSasu. Two-shot, eating disorders, mentions of shounen-ai.
1. Sasuke

**A/N:** It is painfully raw and unedited because I'm lazy and I don't have a beta. They kind of...scare me. A little.And I'm Australian. We don't use pounds. Hurry up and adopt the metric system.

**Warnings:** It's strange, it's abrupt, it's all over the place. It's meant to be. No, really.

Highly likely to be OOC.

Mentions of slash.

* * *

**Leptos**

Cerulean and black. Hushed whispers and prodding fingers. Concerned expressions and slender fingers running through my hair.  
A barrage of sensory sensations assaults me as my body awakens from slumber, my dark eyes opening to see a world hazy and indistinct. A trickle of fear runs through my stomach and up my chest.

Through this blur I make out a mass of distorted colours of which I can only assume are faces. I blink heavily in a (futile) attempt to clear my vision, trying to ignore the incessant _beep beep beep _ringing in my ears. A _hospital_.  
A lungful of bleach and biting disinfectant as my jaw is roughly pried and held open and a second gloved hand is inserted into my mouth. The taste of latex against my tongue as the hand roams past the seams of my lips, touching, pressing, scraping against my tongue, my teeth, my cheeks. Gagging as the fingers push against the back of my throat too hard, tears springing to my eyes in protest to the intrusion, I raise my hands to remove the offending limb. I weakly claw at the glove and arch my back as it continues its' intrusion, leaving me choking and retching. _Why was someone doing this? Why wasn't someone helping me?_  
As quickly as they came, the hands from my mouth and jaw are removed; I swallow and swallow repeatedly, trying to rid myself of the aftertaste of latex still lingering in my mouth. My head lulls to the right and in my exhaustion I shut off the world and try to go back to sleep where none of this was happening.  
Words like _erosion_ and _irritation_ float through the air, my ears barely registering them, my brain not awake enough to care, the fingers trailing across my scalp lulling me back into calm.  
Convinced that my mouth is safe for now, I open my eyes and lazily rove them over the fuzzy figures surrounding my body. I can distinguish red hair, brown hair, black hair, pink hair, and blonde hair. Blonde, gold, bright yellow, pale yellow.

* * *

_Sour yellows and bitter browns rose in a great wave, plundering downwards into the pale, tranquil waters below. Whorls of colour melted into one sickly lumpy mess. Despite the vulgar image merely inches from my face I couldn't help but breathe in the self-satisfying sensation that arose with the pungent smell of _bile_, the marker of success. No smile adorned my flushed face at this feat, my eyes closing as I was overcome with a pain in my body that was quickly becoming too familiar for comfort._

_Resting my forehead against cool porcelain, breathing in and out meticulously in an attempt to control the violent throbbing in my throat, I raised a wet hand to my mouth, wiping it, and letting it drop limply to my side. Vaguely wondering whether it would be inappropriate if I were to still feel proud of this _"accomplishment"_ as I had once called it, I removed myself from the bowl, leaning against the wall beside me, trying to maintain a more dignified position._

_I drew my weary legs to an aching chest. My tired eyes rest on the pale hands resting in my lap, frowning slightly when I spot the red indentations standing out like blood against snow that my teeth have left on my fingers._

* * *

Fingers circled deftly around my right wrist, raising it slightly. I felt a hand weave its' fingers through mine, spreading them apart. Tips pressed ran back and forth over my knuckles, under my nails and into my cuticles. A female began speaking.

…_brittle….deficiency…._

My arm was gently placed back at my side again, the feel of cotton on said limb made its' way upwards. Someone was rolling my sleeve up, squeezing my arm and I was too tired to wonder why.

_Sasuke…we're…test …levels…?_

I didn't have time to wonder what they wanted of me before a thin needle was none too gently shoved in the junction between my upper and lower arm. Wincing a little, I pitifully lolled my head to my left trying to ignore the inexplicable feeling of someone draining the blood from you. A blood test? _Why_ was I in the hospital? Had I been attacked? I didn't feel any great pain anywhere…  
Had I passed out?

I struggled to remember the details of where I was, what I was doing, before I had woken up here.

…_beep…beep…_

* * *

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep._

_Glaring heatedly at the source of the noise, I flipped my phone open and opened the text message my phone was so adamant in telling me I'd received._

I really am sorry. Look I'm running late for work but we'll talk later okay?

Naruto.

_Angrily slamming my phone shut, I hurled it across my bed for a soft landing on the end of my doona. He's sorry? Sorry? Who does he think he is? Presumptuous idiot._

_Saying these things as if I care. I don't care. I wasn't going to dignify it with a response and waste the 25 cents._

_I pinched the bridge of my nose and figured I needed to get out of bed at least _some_ time today because staying in bed until midday was lazy (and no one would ever associate the words Uchiha Sasuke with _lazy_). I threw my blankets off my body haphazardly, leaving them in a messy pile at the rear of the bed, mentally promising that I'd clean them up later. _Not_ lazy.  
I stood up, shivering slightly at the loss of warmth the blankets had provided, making my way across the room to my wardrobe, my feet delighting in the feel of the plush carpet . Wrapping my arms around my frame to try and keep myself warm from the winter chill, I glanced inside my cupboard wondering if I had any clean clothes that were at least _remotely_ useful in keeping me warm.  
Spotting a black cotton sweater, I yanked it off its hanger and threw it on the floor, and resumed a search for a pair of black jeans I could have _sworn_ I threw in there yesterday. They weren't freshly clean, but judging by the state of my laundry they were as good as new._

_  
_There_._

_Dropping the pants with the sweater on the floor I reached out and opened my wardrobe slightly wider, assessing my morning appearance in the full-length mirror attached to the inner door.  
My black hair was hopelessly messy and noticeable dark rings were making themselves known under my eyes. Despite my late rise into the world, I had not actually slept much. I'd achieved 3 or 4 blissful hours of sleep at most and couldn't find the courage to leave my electric blanket any time after.  
Running a hand through my locks in a (pitiful) attempt to tame them, I wandered my eyes over the rest of my body.  
Standing only in my black silk boxers, my impossibly pale skin contrasted sharply against my dark eyes and hair.  
My arms I once considered lean but muscular had degraded into useless masses of fat.  
_

When did things get this way?

_My legs were unsightly and completely disproportionate to the rest of my body. I hated them. They were disgusting. My hand drifted down to the part of my body that I had grown to loathe the most. My stomach once flat was grotesquely huge; I could probably grab the fat rolling off of my front in handfuls. My irritation grew when I reminded myself that no one had caused this shift in my appearance but myself. When did I let things go out of my hands?_I really am sorry.

_I scowled in repulsion at what I had let myself become. When did things get this way? When did I become so complacent that I didn't even notice my own body was changing?  
Scraping my nails down against my fleshy abdomen I became angry at my own uselessness._

_Something needs to be done._

* * *

I felt the coarse material of my clothing being pushed up, the cool air brushing itself against my exposed stomach, calloused fingers pressing down on my abdomen. More whispers and muttering, too quiet for me to make out the words.

The overwhelming fatigue I'd been feeling since I'd woken up had kept my eyes closed and my mind apathetic. Considering I was in a hospital I wasn't in any immediate danger, was I? Hospitals were supposed to take care of people, not hurt them.  
The hand did not relent in its pressure on the stomach that I'd worked so hard to perfect over the last few months.

_The last thing I'd remembered before I'd woken up was walking to school because walking is the best exercise you could do. I was weak, tired, walking sluggishly because I was fasting that week. Out of the seven-day target I was on day five. I'd been doing well (behaving) up to that point. My legs were burning in pain and my stomach was hurting in mad protest to its treatment, but I had come to appreciate this pain as something that was beneficial, rather than harmful.  
Looking up I could see the school in the distance coming closer with every step I took, I quickened my pace, hoping I could get to the library before first period started. I blinked a few times, trying to keep myself awake and rid myself of this light-headedness._

And then everything went black.

I assume I collapsed and someone had found me. Lying on the ground. In god knows what sort of position or manner. How embarrassing.

Would someone suspect something? Did they _already_ suspect something? I knew not eating for lengthy periods of time was not considered to be normal behaviour, but would they _know? _And if they did, what would they say? I wasn't sick. I needed to make them understand that. I can see how they could draw the wrong conclusions, but I wasn't some petty teenage girl with an eating disorder.

The hand had ceased its pushing on my stomach and my shirt pushed back down. Warmth. What were they doing?  
What assumptions – that were probably wrong – were they making?

If I had any time to ponder about any of these questions it was cut abruptly short when gloved fingers made a grab for my chin again. Didn't they know I was awake?

With the worst of my exhaustion it took tremendous effort - I turned my head sharply to the side, squeezing my eyes shut stubbornly. In my confusion my anxiety heightened at this perceived trouble. Not quite willing to go repeat what had happened earlier I again turned my head back to the other side when I felt the hand make another attempt, the hard standard hospital pillow pressing against my cheek. The smell of washing powder and antibacterial cleaning products was pungent and made my head light.

"Sasuke, they're just going to check for damage to your oesophagus, okay?"

I knew that voice.

* * *

_I was doing a walking, jogging, running, medley. I'd read in a fitness magazine somewhere that changing your pace while exercising was an effective method of burning more calories. I _was_ burning. Every muscle in my body ached with the heat of activity and the pain of strain._

_Dragging my black tracksuit bottoms through the puddles on the path below me, I picked up the so-called pace and began jogging, my breath coming out as tufts of air before me._

_It had rained all last night but had cleared up this morning, a welcome sign of the upcoming spring. Maintaining my speed, I breathed in through my nose, smelling the scent that only wet flora could bring.  
_

_I loved this. _

_The open air, the adrenaline racing wildly through my veins, my blood pumping madly, pushing every muscle in a way that hurt so good, the endorphins, the sweat, the exhaustion after a productive workout. I _loved_ it._

_I was losing the kilo's I needed to, I was getting healthier, I felt positive and that I was finally doing something constructive for myself - and Itachi had the audacity to tell me I looked sick. He got his vice through his work, he wouldn't understand. But that was okay. His worries were __**unfounded**__. As long as I knew it. I wasn't sick.  
_

_I'd never felt better in my life. _

"_Sasuke! Hey… Sasuke!"_

_I knew that voice. And I was going to ignore it._

_Picking up speed I transitioned from jogging to running, my feet thudding heavily on the pavement underneath me. Creasing my brow in concentration I tried to focus on the path before me and the beating of my heart._

"_Hey, bastard! I know you can hear me!"_

_Hiding my face under my dark bangs, I smirked at the ease at which my pursuer was provoked. Nonetheless I decided to slow down to a walking pace and waited for the owner of the obnoxious voice to catch up to me. But only to prevent my face meeting the pavement. Obnoxious Voice was athletic. It would have run after me, caught up and tackled me face-first into the ground below. It didn't like being ignored. _

"_What'd you run away for, eh? You scared?"_

_There it was. I rolled my eyes and lifted up the hem of my grey shirt, using it to wipe the warm sweat off my forehead. In my peripheral vision I could see a shock of blonde hair and bronzed skin. I bit my lip and looked away slightly at the familiar feeling of my heart swelling. Why couldn't I stop that yet? _

"_Actually, loser," I replied, honey coating my words, "I heard this terrible _screeching_ noise__ but then I realized it was just your voice."_

"_Ha ha, you're hilarious. Prick. You know, I think you just _wanted_ me to catch you!" He fought back playfully, a laugh escaping his lips and again I rolled my eyes. My heart had begun to ache at how easily we were able to slip back into our old banter, despite what had happened between us. We were really even friends anymore? I suppose it's easier and less - painful? troublesome? – than fighting, and familiarity is easy ground. Sometimes._

_Crossing my long arms over my chest I bit back sarcastically:  
_

"_Yes, like a hole in the head. You couldn't catch me if I tied myself up and sat on you."_

_Turning right, I braved a glance and looked out the corner of my eye, seeing white teeth trying to hold back a grin, the cogs turning in that brain of his practically _visible_. _

"_Oh yeah? That wouldn't be the first sign of weird-ass behaviour from you. Since when does _Uchiha Sasuke_ rise before 10 AM on a _Saturday?_ Did you wet the bed?" He emphasised his ridiculous accusation by waggling his eyebrows and poking his finger into my ribs. Still walking, I narrowed my eyes and gave him a glare. Naruto had the uncanniest ability to be extremely annoying at the most inappropriate times of day, without fail. Grabbing the offending finger from my ribs I furrowed my brows, giving him a disapproving scowl._

"_I know it's a foreign concept to a sloth such as yourself but this what us normal folk call exercise." Naruto wasn't lazy, unmotivated of course, but was one of the most active people I knew. But I knew the jibe would rile him up and I couldn't resist. _

"_Sloth! Would a sloth have these abs?" He asked, lifting his shirt high enough to show the world his stomach, sounding slightly scandalized that I would suggest anything but hyperactivity from the energetic teen. "What are you on, some kind of fitness kick?" _

"…_Something like that."_

_The blonde raised a fine eyebrow and twisted his mouth sideways, a habit he did when he was thinking. Or attempting to. _

"_Yeah well, I think you should eat a sandwich or something," He said, nodding his head, as if he'd just made a big decision, "You're beginning to look like some starving African kid."  
At this I stopped walking and I turned to stare at him, my frown deepened. I wasn't sure whether I should feel pleased at the comment or upset at the disapproving tone. _

"_W-what's that supposed to mean?"_

_Having the temerity to look amused at this he reached forward with a hand and grabbed the hem of my shirt and started flapping it up and down._

"_I mean this! You look like a sack'a bones. Wait, you're not sick are you?" at this his voice instantly became concerned and used his other hand to feel my forehead. Satisfied I didn't have a fever as if it were the sole indicator of illness he withdrew his hand and became cheerful again. I internally thanked the heavens that he didn't want to practice medicine._

"_You should eat a sandwich or something." _

_Grabbing my shirt back from him, I scowled, suddenly feeling a little bit annoyed. What an idiot. Him talking about my body and my habits wasn't even mildly appropriate anymore, and furthermore his insinuation that I was doing something wrong was beginning to rub me the wrong way. I didn't like it. Loudmouth._

"_I think your brain finally broke. What do you want?" I said coldly, not _really_ intending my voice to come out as harsh as it did and instantly regretting it a little bit. I looked at his face to see if there was any sort of reaction but wasn't particularly surprised to find him smiling. He was a better faker than I was. _

"_Cranky bitch. See, this is why _you_ shouldn't get up before 10."At his blasé tone I rolled my eyes, shoved my now cold hands into my pockets and started walking again. "I actually wanted to see if you wanted to come out with the guys tonight. Movies and pizza. You know…cause it's been a while, " He finished awkwardly, looking away from me, putting a hand on his head and ruffling his hopeless hair. _

_I bit my bottom lip, feeling foolishly torn at his offer. _Should_ I go? _

_Was he offering because _he_ wanted me to go or because the others _made_ him ask me?_

_Would it be awkward all night?_

_And the pizza, there were incalculable calories right there, not even including the movie food. How on earth would I work all that off? If I didn't eat they'd think it was weird. And when they get in a group like that, the pack mentality has a tendency to take over…they'd ask questions and probably slip food into my coke for a laugh. The prospect of being unable to escape mass amounts of calories was anxiety inducing.  
But I'd missed nights like these with my friends, I didn't even care that Naruto would be there. _

_Why were these decisions becoming so hard to make?_

"_Sasuke…?"_

_Snapping out of my reverie I said the first thing that came out of my mouth. _

"_Sorry, I've got to finish Kakashi's psych paper tonight." _

_I knew the words sounded stupid as soon as they flew past my traitorous mouth, and I internally cringed. Even to my ears it sounded like a lame cop-out. Not only that, but by the doubtful look on Narutos' face spoke loud and clear that that's what he thought too. Great. He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he was the most astute person I knew when it came to people. _

_He put a finger on his lips, as if in thought and trailed his blue eyes over to mine warily._

_  
"You don't have to make up things, you know?" _

_  
Minute shocks of alarm swam through my system at his words, a rapid tingling starting from my stomach and spreading to the tips of my fingers and toes. What did he mean by that? He knew I was lying. I had hoped that I was a better actor that he was perceptive. I never had been. _

"_What's that supposed to mean?" _

_Swinging his hand around to scratch the back of his head in a sheepish gesture, the blonde scrunched his nose and lowered his eyes to the ground. An action that experience told me that this was a topic we weren't particularly going to enjoy._

"_I just mean…well……you know what I mean." He finished, trailing off awkwardly, bringing his hand to his bottom lip to rub it thoughtfully. His reluctance to be forward was making the situation more awkward than it already was. I narrowed my eyes at him and raised an eyebrow at his vague reply._

"_Oh yes. That answers everything." I replied sarcastically, shoving my hands in my pockets. I'd had inkling about what he might be trying to say, but I wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. If he wanted to go there that was his prerogative but he sure as hell wasn't going to manipulate me into being the one that dredge's it up first. _

"_Shut up asshole. I just mean…" he tried again, blue eyes softening as if he though it would cushion the blow of anything he had to say. "I just mean, if it's about… you know, us. If it's too weird or whatever. You know? If that's why…then that's alright."_

_I turned my eyes skyward, hoping the grey clouds would open the heavens and rain so the painful pitter-patter of remorse in my chest would ease. I was silently wishing that Naruto would be as stupid as he appears and wouldn't know me as well as he did. Wordlessly hoping that the bravest person I know would be too much of a coward to bring up things that are not yet dead and buried, and internally berating myself for even feeling anything at all. Judging by his grim expression, it was clear that it wasn't a pleasant point of conversation for him either. But what was that even supposed to mean? Did he feel hurt? Did he think that he'd hurt me? Or was it just awkward and he wanted to get it over and done with?_

_Ignoring these thoughts I eased my expression into a practiced smirk and looked at him with mock annoyance. _

"_Hn. Idiot. Don't flatter yourself. I _know_ studying must seem like blasphemy to you, but some of us actually aim to pass with more than a 'Better luck next time'."_

_Naruto grinned at the scorn towards his attitude towards his studies, knowing it was said only half-seriously but was still mostly true._

"_Yeah, yeah whatever, " He conceded in an amused tone, "The offer's still there if you ever decide to stop making out with your textbook."_

_I raised an unamused eyebrow at his crude humour and nodded my head in acknowledgement of his offer. We both knew I wasn't going to come, but it was kind to be asked anyway. _

_The energetic teen stopped walking and turned his body to look at me again, pearly whites beaming behind a too-wide grin. _

"_Look I gotta be getting back home. Time to poke the old pervert awake." He finished with a sigh. I would have found it humorous if I knew he wasn't serious._

_At this I scrunched up my nose in distaste. Not because it sounded like an excuse but because I knew from experience if Naruto didn't wake his adoptive father then the lazy __lecher__ would probably sleep until dinnertime. The self-proclaimed literary genius was at least sometimes half-decent in providing his adopted son with the necessities for life such as food, clothing and playstations, I would __reluctantly__ admit, but was found wanting in the department of being a role model. Between an obsession with the female physique, facial tattoos and with a job that could hardly be considered a nine-to-five or writing "literature", the old man was hardly a wholesome guardian. _

_Nonetheless I nodded imperceptibly and gave the blonde a nonchalant wave in an _I-release-you-from-my-presence _gesture that I knew he was familiar with._

_Noting my dismissal Naruto began walking backwards, raising his own hand in farewell, lowering it and scratching his nose in his usual unrefined fashion._

"_Alright, maybe some other time, yeah?"_

_Not looking at him I nodded, humouring him. He would've known I was only appeasing the peace that was held on by a fragile thread. "Some other time" was vague and ambiguous. It was a platitude. But we were both happy to pretend it seems._

_Despite having known one another for years our bond had weakened from a strong oak, old and deeply rooted, to a shivering leaf swept over easily by the wind. It made me feel a faint sadness, but I could hardly mourn for the loss – we had known what were doing. You don't feel sorry for the idiot who put his hand too close to the fire and I certainly wasn't about to pity my situation caused by my own actions. At least we weren't at each other's throats - figuratively and literally. I couldn't ask for more. _

_I raised my hand again and gave another lazy wave to dismiss him._

"_I'll see ya later then."_

"_See you."_

"_Hey bastard?"_

"_Loser?"_

"_Take care of yourself…alright?"_

"_Pfft. Idiot."_

* * *

"Idiot."

I opened my eyes, wincing slightly when they were met with the harsh fluorescent lighting that illuminated the room, my heard clearing rapidly as my body came to the realisation that it wasn't going back to sleep.

Looking at my surroundings I noticed the huddled figures of my family, some friends and medical staff. I pointedly ignored their eyes and couldn't help but feel a bit irritated with the situation I found myself in.

"There's nothing wrong with my _oesophagus_, I'm fine." I spoke, mentally cringing when my voice came out croaky with disuse and abuse. I began to sit up as if to prove this.

"Sasuke," – Itachi's voice came from my left, laced with his usual monotone, "You're very sick. Lie back down."

Sick? I wasn't sick_. _I had never been so healthy in my life. I was in shape, I was fit, and everything that went into my mouth was calorie controlled and nothing short of healthy. I was active; I had never been in more control of my body in my life than I had been in these past months and the suggestion that there was something _wrong_ with me served to anger me more. Ignoring Itachi's command I gathered my strength and forced myself into a proper sitting position. Courageous enough to look into his eyes, I glared disapprovingly at my brother for his accusations and assumptions. Couldn't he see?

"I'm not sick. I'm fine." I repeated, my voice confident but altogether irritated. I looked around at the other 6 or 7 figures surrounding me, fixing upon them the same stare that I gave my brother, as if daring them to say otherwise.

Someone to my right cleared his or her throat to grab my attention. How subtle.

"Mr Uchiha. You must understand that you are severely underweight." A deep voice resonated from the same direction – the Throat Clearer. I turned my head slowly to look at the complete and utter moron. If that's why I was here then they were as stupid as I thought. If everyone who wanted to lose weight and get fit were hospitalised then everything would shut down. Severely underweight? Was he blind as well as stupid?

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that clearly painted that I was not impressed, not trusting my voice to come out as strong as I hoped it could.

Not to be deterred by my defiance to his claims the man, medium build, medium height and with short greying hair, continued with listing off my symptoms.

"You are deficient in iron, in vitamin B12, and in Vitamin D. You have damage to the enamel on your teeth and your mouth and throat show signs of oral trauma. We also have reason for concern for your oesophagus. Mr Uchiha, with all due respect you are quiet unwell."

I wasn't _unwell_. How could he say those things? I was at last getting everything in order and everything was going to plan. With every kilogram that I had dropped I had felt a sense of success and triumph that couldn't be achieved by schoolwork or hobbies. I was doing something right for myself. I was fuming. How could he say those things?

"Mr Uchiha," – taking my silence as a cue to continue, he looked away from me to Itachi, addressing him as my guardian "I suggest putting Sasuke on a drip for the time being and to arrange some psychotherapy with - "

"I don't need counselling!" I interrupted, ignoring the surprised look on the faces around me, not caring that I was being rude. The half-wit with a lab coat looked perturbed at my objection. I wasn't some head case. My thoughts were logical and coherent. How _ludicrous_. This was getting out of hand.

"Did you buy your degree in a savings bin? I don't _need_ counselling."

In the corner of my eye I could see Naruto – what was he even doing here anyway? – He raised a hand to his face, and pinched the bridge of his nose. I didn't need to see a psychologist or a psychiatrist or whoever the idiot with a stethoscope wanted me to see. I could hear myself being bad mannered and immature but I couldn't stop.

Calling me mentally ill was even more of an outrage than any physical problem they could point out. I was in order, and I was in _control_. I wasn't the mess I had been 6 months ago – look at me now. I wasn't so blind as to think that my manner of control was conventional, but it wasn't some monstrous method either. I wasn't snorting coke, smoking weed, drinking myself into oblivion or whoring myself. Why can't they just leave me alone to my own vices?

Furrowing his brow in ill-concealed annoyance, the doctor ignored me and continued to talk to Itachi.

"If we could talk outside please…?". The older Uchiha nodded – traitor -, and they both left the room, closing the door behind them, obviously wanting to speak freely without my input. Narrowing my eyes at their retreating figures I simmered down at let them talk amongst themselves. They weren't going to listen to me anyway.

Shifting backwards, I rested my back against the headboard and stared at the stressed Naruto. What was he doing here? Had he come to sneer and take advantage of my moment of weakness? Or had he decided to make the _I'm-a-familiar-face-so-this is-my-obligatory-visit_ visit? It was probably the latter. The blonde probably had no malice in him whatsoever.

Feeling the stare and removing his hand from his face, the blonde opened his eyes and returned the look. Eyes full of emotion, biting his lips in apprehension, he looked at a loss for words. But this was Naruto. He never had nothing to say, only sometimes too many words that he didn't know where to begin to be delicate.

"Sasuke." That's a good start.

"I wished I'd noticed how serious…." Don't look at me like that.

"Stop being difficult and let them help you." I don't need help.

Growing tired of the situation, I eyed him warily, trying to gauge his intentions and whether or not his words were sincere. A pointless task as nothing that Naruto said was ever insincere. He probably didn't even know how to fake emotions. Except happiness. I'd seen him fake happiness and it was like looking at a train wreck. I wondered absently if that was why he was here. Did he still care? I still don't have the answers to why we couldn't work it out, but he wasn't heartless. I felt a bit sad. Even after our separation he could care and have concern for me despite past conflicts – however unnecessary his concern was. He was a bigger person than I was. He didn't need to worry. I didn't want for him to worry. I had a grip of things. I was going to be all right. I really was okay.

"I'm fine, idiot." I offered him a small smile that he hadn't seen in a long time to support this. If I wasn't alright I wouldn't be as calm and clear as I was now. He didn't need to worry.

He would see. Everything would be fine.


	2. Itachi

**A/N**: I've never actually read or attempted anything in Itachi's view before, so this is purely experimental. The only thing I'm running on is the fact that we now know he's not the emotionless bastard we thought he was and that he unequivocally loves Sasuke (in the least incestuous way possible).

* * *

There is something exceptionally unsettling about seeing your little brother, your only family, slowly lose touch with reality with each passing day. Withdrawing within himself so much that he no longer had the sense to listen to reason or the clarity to see how much he'd changed.

There was something terribly infuriating about trying to help someone who wont help themself, like a cancer patient who refuses chemo. No matter how much you lay down your pride and reach out, express concern, try to repair whatever broke, it's a hard slap in the face when rejected. As much as I loved my little brother there was only so much bruising my pride could take.

There was something incredibly strange about seeing Sasuke deathly still on the impossibly white bed. The entire image seemed to be a harsh juxtaposition of everything he seemed to be, his black hair fanned out contrasting sharply against the white bedding that seemed to envelop his shrinking frame, his stationary position almost odd, as Sasuke had always been nothing but active. Pride and anger aside, I admit it was disconcerting how quickly this all unravelled, how quickly it became uncontrollable, how quickly it moved pass the stage of _Maybe it's a phase_ to life threatening illness.

Yet there he lay, unmoving, gaunt, complexion sickly and in seeing him as such a throbbing anxiety started to simmer in my gut. But Sasuke was always a boy of opposites, wasn't he. A stickler for being as difficult as he possibly could in any endeavour**.**

I'd received a call from the school not more than half an hour ago. A calm and composed office lady informed me, in the most sincere tone that she could muster, that my "_…younger brother had been found collapsed in front of the school…_" and had been taken to the nearest hospital.

As fate would have it I'd just arrived at work, and although I was the boss, I couldn't just leave without ensuring somebody competent could be my makeshift authority, which was easier said than done apparently.

Upon my arrival at the hospital I'd been ushered to Sasuke's room and medically interrogated by the doctors assigned to him. Naruto was already there, sitting beside him and running fingers through his hair, face worried; he must've gone with him in the ambulance I assumed. I was glad for at least that. Glad for his loyalty and glad that Sasuke hadn't managed to alienate _everybody _in the last few months.

"_He seems terribly underweight…." _They'd told me.

"_What are his eating patterns like?" _They'd asked.

"_Does Sasuke have any history of mental illness?"_

"_Is there a family history of…"_

"_Is he allergic to…" _

The questions seemed like an endless barrage of assumptions that lead to one obvious diagnosis of anorexia, bulimia, _eating disorder_. It was slightly irritating for them to sing and dance around the issue for the sake of semantics.

It was absurd, anyone with functioning eyes could have told me that, I could have told _them_ that. Refusal to maintain weight, loss of weight and a distorted body image, it was psychology, not rocket science.

Although for all it's difficulties and intricacies, I thought sourly, it might as well be rocket science.

Life with Sasuke for the past few months had grown to be nothing short of excruciating. Ever since he was visibly losing too much weight and it became an issue, that's when the real trouble started. Who knows how long this mindset had been going on before that?

Each passing day he would withdraw more into himself, exercising more, eating less and lashing out. I suddenly was branded as invasive and _controlling_ because I wanted him to _just eat for gods' sake._ I'd suddenly become the bad guy because I went against Sasuke's master plans of starving himself. Oh how _horrible_ of me. The task of reacting to that sort of behaviour without pushing him away became impossible, it was a fight I could never win. Try and take a firm stand – he becomes more sneaky, more manipulative. Let him do what he wants – he becomes the mess he is now. Just watching him made me weary enough for the both of us.

"If it's alright with you Uchiha-san, we're going to give Sasuke a physical examination." I nodded my permission in a business like manner, knowing it was necessary for a formal diagnosis, despite how unpleasant it might be. I didn't trust myself to speak. Sasuke just wouldn't listen to conjecture. There was no listening to _well we think it might be…_

In watching them prepare for the exam there was an unpleasant sort of feeling spreading from my fingertips to my chest. In being the sole decision maker in regards to Sasuke's welfare, as my parents were to me when we were younger, but I was only his _legal guardian_ – although we were blood related the title still sounded so cold and detached. It may be my role to play both parent and brother but in situations like these it again became all too clear which one I really was. I couldn't know Sasuke instinctively like my parents did. What did I really know about being a parent?

As soon as the permission was received, the assembled medical team was on Sasuke like athletes after the pistol had been fired. I stood behind his primary physician, trying to maintain a healthy distance, while he stretched a white glove over his thick fingers, wiggling them to assure maximum dexterity.

I didn't like hospitals.

From my position I could see familiar dark eyes flutter open wearily before his mouth was pried open and a hand was shoved inside. A nurse held a small torch light to give a better view and Sasuke gagged, coughed and spluttered as his mouth was painfully invaded, I wanted to block out the noise.

It was peculiar, very peculiar to witness your little brother sick, skeletal and so weak that his hands were unable to fight this man off. An uneasy feeling swam in the pool of my stomach as I slowly became very aware of the smells and sounds of this hospital room. It was far too white, you couldn't concentrate on a particular spot, it was just one giant blur of nothingness that made the reality of the situation inescapable. Should I be trying to comfort him like my mother would have or should I be the cold and firm father figure?

His physician (I hadn't bothered to memorize his name in my haste) turned to a nurse holding the ever-accusatory clipboard, a pitiless expression on her weathered face.

"Dental erosion and irritation of the throat," he reported in a bland tone. Everything in the hospital was bland, nondescript – the walls, the beds, the doctors, the gowns. So very uniform. The middle age nurse just nodded as she scribbled down his words.

The Doctor continued his inspection of what was left of my family, examining his bony hands, pressing against his fingernails. To my right Naruto was still visibly anxious, biting his lip, blonde eyebrows drawn together. Still I remained expressionless in spite of his open concern – I was the adult here, I'd decided, I needed to be the one to show some stability, responsibility. I was itching to bite my fingernails but, innately, I probably thought that such a display was not appropriate.

"Nails are brittle, possible protein deficiency." The nurse nodded, continuing to scribe. The man in the white coat turned back to me, instantly painting his expression with what must be his Family Face. "We're going to need to run a few tests, just to make sure." Nod. Fold arms over chest. What else could I say to a real glimpse into the state of his health?

What the hell had he really done to himself?

Looking over his shoulder, Sasuke began stirring again as the nurse rolled up his arm sleeve exposing the veins and finishing with tying a tourniquet to his lower bicep. His eyes, seemingly unable to be kept open long had an unfamiliar coat to them and were unable to focus.

Surrounded by all these people and equipment he looked so little, like he was just a kid again. It was as if he'd broken his leg or had his appendix taken out, something that could be fixed, cured. Something that didn't take a hold of him with an iron grip and refuse to pry open, because deep down I knew he couldn't really help it.

Seeing that he was – mostly – conscious, Dark Haired Nurse put on her brightest Patient Smile and attempted to explain herself. For all the honey coating her voice she might as well have been addressing him as a child.

"Sasuke, we're going to take a blood test so we can see what your levels are at, okay?" He didn't respond, I'm not sure if he even heard, only turning his head to the side as she slid the thin needle into his arm and I watched, utterly transfixed, as vial after vial filled with his blood. The vials were then promptly labelled and sent off to pathology. I felt a small assurance in the midst of this bizarre experience of how clinical it all seemed. Lather, rinse, repeat. Formulaic. There was a standard, protocol, something still in the whirlwind that this was becoming.

They moved southwards to his abdomen next, poking it and prodding it, muttering half words under their breath. I pinched the bridge of my nose in shame and a sense of defeat as his concave stomach and emaciated rib cage were exposed for the world to see - Actually seeing the full extent of how _bad_ it had gotten was so much worse than anything I could reason away. I felt, paranoid, as if they would all turn and point fingers, telling me _you could have stopped this, you saw this coming, why didn't you do more?_

What more could I say than "I tried"? I took away his privileges; I damn near shove food down his throat myself, but in that moment of seeing his near emaciated form I asked myself the very same things.

On the other hand what could I say; the stubborn idiot didn't want to be helped.

"Possible esophagitis…"

Before I could blink they were at his mouth again and with each passing minute of scrutiny he became more and more awake. The teen refused to allow them access, turning his head side to side in an effort to ward them off. If I were in his position I'd probably do the same - mulish, in the best and worst of situations.

I vaguely wondered how many were submitted for eating disorders and if they acted as strange as Sasuke, were as skinny as him. How universal were the symptoms among sufferers? What in the world made them want to slowly kill themselves?

* * *

"I'm sorry about that," I apologised, offering the tired platitude in light of Sasuke's defiant behaviour. I think that maybe a part of me had foolishly hoped that he would just sit and accept what we had to offer him – diagnosis, treatment, options and a way out. Maybe that some stupid part actually thought that he wanted help – but for him to actually be so deluded to think that there was nothing wrong with him worried me greatly. I don't know how I missed this happening.

"Not a problem, I've had worse" Primary Physician replied, shaking off my apology, getting right into business. "As I said inside, with your permission I'd like to start Sasuke on a diet so he can gain a bit of weight," I folded my arms over my chest, slightly uncomfortable as thoughts of Sasuke with a tube down his nose sprang to mind (as no doubt no white coat could get him to actually eat) but kept nodding as he continued. "I'd also like for him to see our resident psychologist three times a week, she's a very nice woman…."

"How long would he need to stay?" I asked, thinking about his studies. Suddenly realising I sounded pushy I began to retract. "You see, his schooling is - "

"I understand how important schooling is, especially at his age, and we'll do what we can," he interrupted "But at the end of the day Sasuke's progress depends on how he reacts to treatment and how willing he is to recover."

"He doesn't even recognise that he's sick," I objected. The middle-aged man just smiled.

"I'm sure a part of him does. He's observant enough to know that his desire and drive to lose weight differs from those around him, he just doesn't want anyone to take his vice away from him. You must understand that it's not about food, it's about control."

A bitter flashback of Sasuke turning a bowl of cereal upside down on the kitchen bench in a fit of rage came to mind. I'd sat him down one morning and tried to make him eat it, told him he couldn't leave until he did - after 5 minutes of heated argument the result was a wet, soggy mess on the bench and floor. No verbal or physical resources spared he would have done anything not to eat it.

I didn't understand fully how this whole thing _wasn't_ about food but I guess, for now, I would take his word for it.


End file.
